


Soothe Me Daily

by ladyofrosefire



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, morning sex - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, BDSM, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Time, Foreplay, James keeps the mask on, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofrosefire/pseuds/ladyofrosefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fills for the 2015 Buckynat Smut-A-Thon. Title from Hozier's "Jackie and Wilson"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday (foreplay)

Time is a precious thing.

This, they have both learned, the lesson hammered into them with long, hard winters--

(He kisses down her spine, and his stubble scrapes her skin as his hands rest on her hips, one cold, and one so wonderfully warm.)

And stakeouts

(She rolls onto her back beneath him and cradles his face in her hands as she kisses him, lightly enough to make him chase her lips.)

With running and gunfire

(His fingers glint silver as they trace patterns on her inner thigh, and his breath is warm against the side of her neck)

With stolen moments in shadows

(The sound he makes as she pulls him under her is full-throated. She smiles against his throat, and bites, high, where the mark will sit plane as day.)

With him scrambling out her window barely a minute after he climbed in.

(He grips her hips again as she rocks against him, the damp satin of her panties cutting the friction down to almost nothing.)

Time is a spy’s best friend--

(She litters bites down his chest that make him curse into the night air and holds herself just out of his reach.)

\--And sometimes a soldier’s worst enemy.

(She laughs as he pulls her to him, his arms tight around her, her fingers digging into his right shoulder.)

Time means change

(He tugs her onto his lap and squeezes her ass a little too hard as he catches one of her nipples in his teeth)

Means entropy

(Her fingers curl in his hair and _yank_ , driving a cry from him. The satisfaction is both deep and immediate.)

Means plans coming to fruition

(There is a loud snap of thread as he finally gives up and tugs her panties off. She will find them later, hanging off of the doorknob, but right now, she is more interested in the hand he is sliding between her thighs.)

Means time is a thing they have in plenty.

(Sometimes, they make a night of this)


	2. Tuesday (hurt/comfort)

She nearly throws him at the nearest wall as soon as they’ve walked in the door. Not their door, mind you, the door of the SHIELD base. James strikes it a little harder than he had been expecting and winces as it lights up the bruises that promise to cover his entire back the next day. 

<You could have  _died_ , you idiot _!_ > 

She’s speaking in Russian, which is enough of a clue on it’s own that something is very wrong. Not just wrong like there’s a bomb somewhere and she can’t find it. The kind of wrong that doesn’t let her spin some new, incredible plan at the last second to get everyone out of whatever the hell happened alive and in one piece. 

Which--

\--Yeah. That’s the problem.

“Natalia-- I’m sorry.” He reaches out, and she does let him wrap his arms around her, even if she stays completely rigid. She smells like gunpowder, smoke, rubble, and sweat. It’s a familiar smell, a battle smell. Right now, it is clinging to both of them. Maybe him worse than her. 

It’s what he gets for pretty much jumping on top of a bomb.

“You could have  _died._ ” Natasha’s hands cradle his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks just once .Her hands are dirty, and so all she manages to do is smear the dust that covers his skin in a fine film. 

James does not argue with her assessment. He had been carrying the shield, and instead of using it to do something as rational as protect himself, he had driven its edge  _through_  the explosive in what he was rapidly realizing was one of the most hair-brained stunts he had ever pulled. 

It all hits him at once, hard enough to drive the wind from him. It comes out as her name. Natasha’s lips meet his a moment later, and she tastes much the same as she smells for the first half second. Then her tongue slips past his lips and all that’s left is the crashing wave of adrenaline and a shaking in their bodies that does not plan on letting up any time soon. 

She just latches onto him when he scoops her up, and wraps her legs tightly around his waist. Her hands curl around the straps of the harness he wears to carry the shield. A few feet later, and they’re inside an abandoned conference room. It’s dark and a little stuffy, but considering the fact that they just were inside a lab full of all manner of ungodly  _shit_ , neither of them cares. James just deposits Natasha on the table and reaches for the zipper on her suit. Her hands are already on his belt, yanking it open. The button and fly of his pants follow a moment later. He hisses as she gets her hand on his cock, since it’s sudden and a bit dry, but they only need a moment. She raises her hips so he can shove her suit down, and she kicks it the rest of the way off so she can wrap her legs around his waist. 

“Natalia, I am so--” 

“I know.” She breathes the words against his lips, her fingers in his hair, her legs pulling a little tighter. “Just...”

“Yeah--” He hooks her underwear out of the way, and then pushes into her, muffling his groan against her neck, “I got you.”

Natalia holds him to her, her legs locked around him keeping him from moving much. It is enough, though, with both of them high on adrenaline the battle-fury fading until they threatened to shake apart. She hides her face against his shoulder and the only sounds she makes are the occasional gasp of his name or a shaky inhales. The bruise he gets when she comes sits just above the collar of his jacket. 

For a few moments after, they remain wrapped around each other, too hot, dust smeared on their skin from sweat, her hair tickling his nose. Then James sighs and slowly, carefully extricates himself. Natalia releases him and cleans up as much as possible with a convenient box of Kleenex. Then she tugs her suit back on, smooths down her hair, and slips into his arms for a final kiss. 

“I love you.” She murmurs, and he returns her words as he chases the kiss.

He presses another to her hair, and then wraps an arm around her waist as they walks back into the hall. “I can’t promise I won’t do that again.” James tells her, his head dipped toward hers. 

Natalia sighs and squeezes his hand. “I know. As long as you come back to me.”

“No need to worry about me.” He assures, stealing a last kiss, “That trick never works anyway.”


	3. Wednesday (Superhero kink)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James keeps the mask off. A lamp and a potted plant meet their untimely end.

If she were not otherwise occupied, Natasha would laugh at the trail of clothing they’re leaving. But really, who has time for something like that at a time like this? His mouth is on hers, hot and insistent, and he is holding her to him like every inch of air between them is a personal affront. She tugs at the buckles on his uniform, all of her usual finesse forgotten. When his jacket falls to the floor, she gives his lower lip a small bite almost in celebration.

His hands cup her breasts briefly on their way to the zipper of her suit and she arches into them, sliding her tongue into his mouth again. Then she pushes him back, meets his eyes, and makes sure he’s watching closely as she unclasps her widow’s bites and lets them fall to the floor. Then she strips off her suit, twisting as she reaches her hips, and watches his gaze turn dark and focused behind his mask.

“Keep that on.” She tells him, touching her own face to clarify.

His mouth quirks up at one corner. “Should I?”

She slides a hand down between them to cup his cock. “Yes.”

He is on her again a moment later, mouth on her neck, hands under her ass and lifting. They hit the bedside table on their way over and the lamp wobbles ominously for a moment. Neither of them pays it any mind. Natasha’s hands slide up under his shirt, digs her nails into his chest until he hisses, and then tugs his shirt off. It lands-- somewhere, she can’t be fucked to care where-- and she leans forward to nip at his throat and collarbones. They cannot leave marks, but since they both heal quickly, they have no obligation to be gentle as long as they’re careful about where.

She arches beneath him as he scatters kisses over her breasts. His teeth catch her skin, close on a nipple over the cup of her bra, and she groans pulling at his hair. Her hips roll, and he presses a little closer, muffling a sound against her mouth. Then his hands slide under her back to the catch of her bra. He throws it and when Natasha looks back, she sees it hanging off of the lamp. Her laugh dissolves into a groan as he kisses down her stomach to the waist of her panties. They rip a little on one side as they come off. He starts to slide down and she grabs him by the hair, tugging again. Normally, she would have been wrapping her legs around his shoulders and tugging him as close as he would allow. But _God_ she needs him in her. They scrabble at his belt together, tug it open, and nearly rip the button off of his pants as they pull them open. His pants and boxers land on the floor with her suit. He only barely manages to get a condom from one pocket before his pants are out of reach.

She rolls him onto his back and takes the packet from him, pressing him back with a hand on his chest. Then Natasha ducks down, smirking, and pushes the condom down with her mouth. He bucks up, fingers slipping against the sheets. There’s a thump as he kicks one nightstand, and then another as the lamp tips over. She comes up smirking and doesn’t bother to give him a chance to recover before she sinks down onto his cock.

Natasha rides him fast and hard, choking back her groans out of habit. He clings to the nightstand behind him to avoid knocking his head into it. They only pause for a moment as the potted plant goes the same way that the other lamp had. She comes laughing, and he follows close behind. The sight of those eyes of his, wide, fixed on her face, and full of heat, behind his mask is every bit as good as she had expected.

 

            Later, after two more rounds, only one of which saw them properly in the bed, and neither of which involved him taking his mask off (thank God), they stop to take stock of the room. He laughs, shoulders shaking, and then draws her back against his chest.

“Satisfied?” He asks, the mask landing on the sheets.

Natasha gives it a mournful look, and then rolls her ass back against his cock just to hear him choke and muffle a groan in her hair. “For now.”


	4. Thursday (Dominance/Submission)

Natasha rolls her hips and the headboard creaks ominously as James strains toward her. She looks down at him, cool despite the flush on her cheeks, and raises an eyebrow. “If you break that, you aren’t coming tonight.”

James does not protest. It’s a little unfair, maybe. She has had him under her for some ridiculous amount of time-- he can’t see the clock, but it feels like an hour at least-- and he has been ready to come for about half of that. Worse yet, he is currently inside her and she is not moving. Admittedly, even that is probably better than _not_ being inside her.

He does, however, squirm under her when she runs her hand down his chest again, nails raising red lines on his skin. It is reddened already, marked with bruises and bites. His nipples are nearly raw from how long she had spent toying with them.

There’s a collar, too. It has a lead clipped to it, which is in turn attached to the headboard. If he raises his head more than an inch or two, the lead pulls tight. Natasha’s eyes are on him constantly to make sure he does not hurt himself. His hands are bound as well, cuffed to the headboard. Between that and Natasha’s weight on his hips, he has nowhere to go. He twists beneath her and her nails dig briefly into his chest.

“James.”

He goes still a moment later, letting out a breathless laugh. “Sorry.”

He’s so fucking hard it nearly hurts. Natasha starts move, and it gives him some small amount of relief, but she is going so slowly. Sweat has long since broken out on both of their bodies. More gathers as Natasha picks up the pace just a little bit, just enough to drive a moan up from the bottom of his lungs, long, soft, and unrestrained. She goes still again when his hips jerk upwards.

“Natalia--” He jerks forward, and then stops as the lead pulls tight. “Please.”

Again, she pushes him down on the mattress. “Not yet.”

She rides him until she comes, grinding down against him, clenching, and then goes still again, the silken heat of her still around him. James pants, his lower lip caught in his teeth, the knuckles of his right hand white, and the muscles of that arm straining.

A bare few seconds after he relaxes, Natasha begins again, fingers flicking and tugging at his nipples, skimming down his sides. Her nails dig in just above his hips and his stomach clenches. He cannot seem to stop the sounds coming from his mouth anymore. His eyes are closed, his throat dry. When she stops to check his wrists and rub his hands, James lets out a sob.

This time when Natasha comes, she pulls off of him and leaves him straining against the cuffs and collar. She pushes him down again, hard, and moves up to kneel over his face. As much as he wants to come, he _needs_ the break. James presses up, licking into her. He can feel how oversensitive she is in every twitch of her hips and in the catch of her breathing but if she wants this, she will have it from him. Everything is simpler here, warm and frenetic, sweeping him up to some higher plane where he feels everything and nothing and--

The ring around the base of his cock stops him from coming yet again and James ends up sobbing against her thigh, shaking.

“I know…” She pulls away despite his having stopped before he made her come.

Natasha stretches out against his side, one of her legs between his. Then she reaches down and unsnaps the ring around the base of his cock. His hips jerk. A few rolls of her hips, a sweat-slick thigh pushing against his cock, and he comes, back arching, a broken shout falling from his lips.

She strokes him through it, and then reaches up to undo the cuffs and lead. He stops her when she reaches for the collar.

“Okay, baby…” She murmurs, gathering him into her arms. “You’re okay. You did so well.”

Natasha holds him and pets his hair as he comes back. Over and over, she tells him how good he is, how well he had done, praises him. James quiets, settles, and then turns his face up to hers. She obliges him with a kiss.

After a few moments, she rolls to her feet, drawing him along with her. Then she walks backward into their bathroom, leading him by both hands.

“Come on, baby.” She kisses him a final time as she turns on the shower. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this prompt and just went "you called?"


	5. Friday (oral sex)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set in something I call Roadtrip of Self Discovery!Verse (RoSD!verse). The basic concept is this: Natasha is the one to find James, and they drive across the country together killing Hydra agents and relearning how to be people and, more importantly, themselves. It’s the result of a RP I did with directorshellhead that had to end because of time conflicts, and it is still one of my favorite things I have ever written. This is a scene we actually discussed writing into the Roadtrip itself.

            **[June 28th, 2014. Saint Mary’s County, California. Super8]**

 

Natasha arches under James’s mouth and the cheap mattress they’re on creaks. That noise is louder than any she has let pass her lips so far. When she glances down, she can see him nearly rolling his eyes at her attempt at restraint. Two fingers on his right hand, the two he had just had inside of her, are pressed up against the beat of her femoral artery, measuring her pulse. Whether what he finds pleases him or not, she cannot quite tell.

James turns his head, lets out a snort huff of air, and brings his mouth back to her cunt. She has come once already, nearly silent, hips pushing upwards toward his mouth at the last moment. She knows that he is capable of unraveling her control completely. Judging by the furrow between his brows, James knows the same thing, and cannot tell why.

 

Natalia’s hips buck once, sharply, and she makes some choked-off noise before she can catch herself. Her fingers are clenched hard enough in the case of the pillow beneath her head that Natasha fears for the seams, but she has enough occupying her mind already without fretting over the fate of a pillow.

She had not expected to end up here when they booked the room after their latest strike. She thinks now that she had missed a few too many obvious indicators for that to be anything other than a lapse on her part. The mission had been easy that they had not had time to burn through their adrenaline, and really, victory and adrenaline together? It’s a heady combination. She knew that, of course.

He was the unknown element. There had been no good way to predict how he would react. She had been expecting him to leave the shitty motel as soon as he had dropped his bag and go for a long run. Or he could have sat in one of the chairs and watched the news like he was always doing when he could get access safely.

Sex really hadn’t entered into the picture, much less his still being every bit as good at it as she remembers.

According to most people’s definitions, they have not had sex yet tonight. He had joined her in the shower and had kissed her so carefully that she could only tell that he needed this as badly as she did (it was need) because of the tension in his back and shoulders, and the fact that his cock had been butting up against her stomach.

And yet, he has barely allowed her to touch him. Not that she’s complaining, of course, because he has a wonderful mouth and clever hands and she will never question someone about not wanting another’s hands on them.

Although she does wish, idly, and only for a moment, that he had given her a chance to recover after her last climax.

This one bubbles up quickly, pleasure sparking up and down her nerves, her stomach clenching, her thighs trembling. Sweat slicks her skin, gathering at the small of her back and her hairline and between her breasts. She can feel a flush covering her skin, too, deep as if she had been standing in hot steam for a long time. This time, when it breaks over her, she cannot help the sound she makes. Mercifully, it isn’t his name, because that is far too personal for both of them, but it’s high and breathless and loud enough that she can’t imagine their neighbors have missed it.

It’s as if that sets him off. James presses a little closer with a sort of muffled grunt and Natasha’s back bows, her chest heaving. She reaches down to fist a hand in his hair and the sound he makes rumbles through her. Her other hand is clapped over her mouth, teeth fastened in the space between her thumb and index finger hard enough that she will have a bruise.

James pulls away for long enough to gently, oh so gently, move her hand before he sinks down again. She acquiesces when she sees the look in his eyes. It is triumph and confusion and desire all at once. The state is fragile enough that she could break it with a wrong move, and silence does not mean so much to her at that moment.

This time when she comes, it is weaker, but still overwhelming, and she twists beneath him as she rides it out. Her hips rock up, the movement more than half frantic, and James takes the opportunity to get both his hands under her ass and hold her to him.

With a muffled shriek, she gets a knee up to his shoulder and pushes.

 

Immediately, he pulls away, his eyes wide, his mouth swollen. He searches her face for a few long moments, and then sighs heavily when she smiles up at him.

“It’s okay. I’ve just had enough.” She draws him down for a kiss and ends up groaning into his mouth. Then she falls, half limp, on the mattress. It really is a shitty mattress, but she cannot care right now. Really, she would be ready to fall asleep if not for the hard line of James’s cock against her thigh.

 

She rolls them over a few moments later and slides a hand down his abdomen. “Your turn?”

Natasha waits out his indecision, his consideration, his moment of _can-I-may-I-should-I_ , and then waits a moment longer.

James nods, jerky, but certain. “Yes.”


	6. Saturday (AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know those books set somewhere that's pretty much medieval Europe only without the plague? That AU, arranged marriage.

James looks at her across the room without speaking. She stands there, her fingers curling, not quite clenched in the fabric of her wedding gown. Her back is perfectly straight, her expression impassive. Her hair hangs down her back in a fiery curtain. After today, she will wear it up. She’s a married woman. He’s a married man.

He just fucking met her.

 

He does not snap out of his stupor again until he sees Natasha reach back for the laces on her dress and untie them.

“Wait--”

She looks up at him, one brow arched. “Do you want to do it?”

James coughs hard, and then sits down on the edge of the bed. “No, I-- I mean I’m not going to touch you unless you want me to.”

Natalia snorts. It’s a surprisingly unladylike gesture, and James looks up quickly, his eyes a little wider than before. She has the back of her dress mostly undone. She shrugs it off while his eyes are still on her, and then turns. The thin shift she wears clings to the shape of her body. It is easy to notice things-- the softness of her skin, apparent even from here, the fullness of her breasts and hips, the strong lines of her legs. It is a struggle to draw his eyes back up to her face, and she notices. Her lips quirk, and she raises an eyebrow at him. James looks down, blushing.

“James…” She says his name slowly, tasting it, and he shifts under the knowledge that she has only said it once or twice before. “James, I walked into that room expecting some brute.” He flinches, and she takes his hands in hers. “What I received is a beautiful young man whose friends promise that he is kind and loyal. You made me laugh during the reception…” She brings his hands to her lips and kisses each one, gently. “So if you want to touch me, then do.”

“I don’t--” James clears his throat. “I mean, I really do want-- but I don’t know--” He’s stammering, which is embarrassing, and blushing, which is worse.

Natalia’s soft laugh just makes him turn even redder. “It’s alright-- just try what you want, and if there’s something I want, I’ll tell you.”

He takes a deep, unsteady breath, and then nods. “God yes--”

Anything else he might have set gets lost when Natalia kisses him, soft and sure, her hands cradling his face. His hands fall to her hips and draw her into his lap.

The truth is that he has wanted to touch her since they set eyes on each other in the church, and wanted her badly since they had a chance to talk at dinner and he heard the bright bell of her laughter. It’s so hard to go slow once he has her in his arms, but he tries. He follows her lead when she draws his hands to her breasts, cups them, and rubs his thumbs over her nipples as she rocks against him. Her hands scrabble at the fastenings of his tunic, and then the laces of his shirt. His clothes fall to the floor, followed a moment later by her shift.

Natalia pushes him back before he can draw her beneath him and kisses down his chest, and then fucking _bites_ him low on one hipbone. He cries out softly and buries his hands in her hair for a moment. Then he pulls her back up for another kiss and rolls her beneath him. Her skin is soft and warm beneath his mouth and she moans when he closes flicks his tongue against her nipples. She groans louder-- loudly enough that she claps a hand over her mouth, when he slips a hand down between her thighs and draws a finger through the slick he finds there. She spreads her legs for him, tugging at his belt with unsteady hands.

That is when James stops, his weight on his forearms, his eyes on her face even though Natalia’s are tightly closed. “Are you sure?”

She looks up at him, then, and he wonders for a moment if that’s _surprise_ he sees there before she leans up to kiss him. “I’m sure.”

He still lingers, pressing his fingers into her-- he has heard others talk of this, after all, even if he has never tried it himself-- and proceeding more confidently when he finds that if he crooks his fingers a certain way, he can make Natalia arch and tremble beneath him, her thighs closing tight around his waist as she rocks against his hand. She is beautiful, and he tells her as much as she gasps for hair, her eyes wide, and her nails digging into the backs of his shoulders. The sounds slipping from her mouth now are half helpless, high, and breathless. Then she cries out once, startled, and falls back against the mattress. He knows the look on her face on instinct, and the knowledge nearly undoes him then and there.

Natalia gasps again as his cock nudges up against the wet heat of her cunt, but wraps her legs around his waist anyway.

“It-- it won’t be long…” James apologizes, but she tugs him closer, and he gives in, losing everything in the impossible warmth of her.

It definitely does not take a long time-- she’s still shivering around him and the little sounds she makes are even better when they are right up against his shoulder.

After, they lay together, entwined, Natalia’s head on his shoulder. His limbs feel heavy, and his eyelids heavier. She already seems to be half asleep. James watches her for another moment, and then leans in for a final kiss.

“I’m going to like getting to know you.” He decides.

Natalia grumbles quietly, smiles, and then presses her face more firmly into the side of his neck. “Lesson one-- I like sleep.” She mumbles. “Can we start in the morning?”

James laughs and wraps an arm around her waist beneath the blankets. “Alright, Natalia. I can wait.”

It’s worth waiting to watch her fall asleep in his arms, her hair gleaming in the light of the moon.


	7. Sunday (Making Love)

Natasha wakes early with the light of a rising sun falling warm across her back. There is an arm tucked around her waist, and she can hear the steady thump of a heartbeat beneath her ear. She turns her head slowly and kisses James just over his sternum, once. When he does not stir, she does it again, a little higher, a little longer. She kisses up his chest, and then his neck, pausing with her lips beneath the hinge of his jaw. Then she opens her mouth just enough to leave a bruising kiss just over the beat of his pulse.

James groans, long and low, his head tipping back a little farther back. His right hand slides farther up her back, fingers splayed between her shoulder blades.

“Morning…” She murmurs, and then kisses his lips.

“Mm…” He nuzzles into the side of her neck, reaching over with his left hand to draw her fully atop him, “S’a good one, too.”

She laughs softly, leaning her forehead against his. “Cute.”

“Aren’t I?” His eyes are still closed, but he finds her mouth easily, his tongue slipping out to sweep over her lower lip.

Her fingers tangle in his hair. Natasha meets the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth as she tucks her knees up against his sides. Both of them are naked, their skin sleep-warmed. Their clothes litter the room, painting a picture along with the remains of strawberries, two glasses on the side table, and the bottle of mostly empty bottle of champagne they had ordered the night before.

\---

 _“If we’re gonna do the cliché, we might as well do it right,”_ James had said, and then kissed her, laughing. _“Either way, we’re a bit of a joke. C’mon-- your ancestors will forgive you. Champagne goes better with strawberries than vodka.”_

The price tag had nearly changed his mind.

 _“Stark’s paying_.” Natasha had reminded him. “ _He’s paying, and we earned this.”_ Then she had sprawled out on the ridiculously large bed and drawn a hand up her thigh. _“Now come here and help me shock room service.”_

 ---

James slides his hands down her back to her hips, squeezes, and then draws her a little more firmly against him. He groans when she rocks against him, his half-hard cock sliding against her cunt, still wet from the night before. They kiss as they move together, the sheets sliding off of their bodies, skin prickling at the breeze that reaches them. She aches by the time that James rolls her onto her side and guides  one of her legs more fully around his waist.

She first thrust is always her favorite-- the moment where the overwhelming need eases, just for a moment, the rush of satisfaction, the pressure of him inside of her, the heat of it. They stay there for a moment, pressed together, her face tucked in against his neck, her eyes closed. Then Natasha rolls her hips against his, and they begin to move. It is a little less easy to move in this position, but they have practice. They know each other’s bodies as well as they know their own.

It is an easy rhythm, an unhurried one. She holds him as tightly to her as she can, panting into his mouth as pleasure winds higher and tighter in them. He gasps her name over and over, half-muffled against her lips, her throat. She is quieter simply because that is how she has always prefered to be, but she lets herself moan against the corner of his jaw. She clenches around him as her hips shift and the new angle pushes his cock against her g-spot.

Her hands tighten on his shoulders as she rocks harder against him. There is pressure on her clit and g-spot both and she’s going to come hard enough that she is half tempted to twist away from him. Her breath comes hard and fast, hitching on the way out. James, too, is falling apart in her arms, body tense, trembles running through him. He comes a moment before she does, buried in her, hips snapping off rhythm for the last few thrusts. Natasha drags him in for a final kiss as her own orgasm overtakes her and he swallows the cry that breaks from her throat.

They break apart only after their breathing has settled.

Natasha kisses him once, slowly, and then gets to her feet. “I’m going to clean up. Get us breakfast?” She turned when she reached the bathroom door and smirked. “It’s your turn to shock room service.”


End file.
